


day 6: giving comfort

by orphan_account



Series: the twelve days of shipmas (giving edition) [6]
Category: UNIQ (Band)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8916295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: the last thing sungjoo expected was to go home with someone tonight. it’s even more of a surprise when they burst into tears before they’ve even fucked.





	

**Author's Note:**

> twelve days of shipmas challenge for u-n-i-fics.tumblr.com
> 
> full prompt list on my tumblr

sungjoo hadn’t had the highest of hopes to get lucky when wenhan had dragged him out to a club tonight. sure he’d gone through the motions - his best fitted jeans, an extra spray of cologne, some last minute mints - but men who approach him don’t hang around very long to flirt with him after he opens his mouth to start rambling on about bruno mars’ impeccable fashion choices.

tonight though, the gods are smiling upon him.

the guy he’s pinning up against this hallway is gorgeous, all fine features and cherry lips. he’s ridiculously handsome with his hair done up and falling over part of his face, gaze confident and strong as he sidled up to sungjoo at the bar and just smirked. yibo was the name he had given, foreign to his korean palate but he hopes the short time he spent in beijing means he didn’t mangle the tones too much. if it bothered him, yibo hadn’t let it show although that may have been due to the insistent way he was trying to flirt through sungjoo’s bumbled attempts whilst consuming a dangerously high amount of alcohol at the same time.

“ - and that’s why hats are such an important part of his aesthetic… um, yibo?”

the other’s attention had wandered off for a second, gaze focusing on something happening behind sungjoo’s back. his brows screw up in confusion and he tries to spin around to see but suddenly there are hands at his shirt front, pulling him in to stand face-to-face with yibo.

“do you want to go back to my place?”

somehow sungjoo found the strength in his few remaining braincells to say yes.

which led him to his situation now, waiting impatiently to be ravished inside the dorm room that had yet to be opened. he’d let go of yibo so the other could unlock the door, hoping for quicker gratification that way.

“got it,” yibo breathed shakily, hair mussed and pushes the door open before sungjoo can say a word, dragging him into the room with a tug to his arm. he flicks the light on so they don’t bang into anything on the admittedly cluttered floor and retreats onto the left of the single beds set up on each side of the room, divesting himself of his shirt quickly, “come here and kiss me already.”

“coming, coming,” sungjoo stumbles towards him and basically straddles his lap, ridding himself of his jeans in the process and then trying his best to get rid of the shirt clinging to his skin like a leech, “nice posters by the way - i guess you really like soccer, huh?”

“s-soccer?” yibo mumbles against his lips, sounding shaky but not in the good falling-apart way. more like the sad kind that promises good for no one at all. sungjoo is quick to pull back, cupping yibo’s face hesitantly between his palms. there are some black streaks of eyeliner smearing near the latter’s eyes that he seems intent on wiping away, averting any eye contact at all with sungjoo. he nearly flinches from the contact and sungjoo’s retracts his hands immediately.

“did i say something wrong? are you okay? can i help? i won’t bring it up again if you had some terribly traumatic experience with a soccer ball when you were young if it bothers you?”

yibo promptly bursts into tears.

well, there was always a catch.

sungjoo is frozen. he wonders if he should put his shirt back on. he decides to make for the box of tissues by the bedside instead, leaving yibo’s lap gingerly to grab and offer it. the younger takes one and blows his nose harshly, using the excess to dab the water away from the corners of his cat-like eyes.

“do you… do you want to talk about it?”

“don’t worry you can leave,” yibo sniffs, not unkindly but in mild surprise that sungjoo hasn’t already bolted out the door, “sorry i couldn’t be a good lay tonight.” he looks a little like a stray kitten, vulnerable and lonely and well, sungjoo has always been weak to cute animals.

it wasn’t a blatant refusal. “that’s not important,” sungjoo fiddles with his thumbs and seats himself like a pretzel by yibo’s feet, looking up in worry, “i can’t leave you here by yourself when you’re upset - you did listen to me going on and on about bruno mars after all. i’m pretty sure you’re the only one who’s lasted more than five minutes before.”

at that, yibo manages a weak chuckle and sungjoo is emboldened to go on.

“so if you feel like spilling your guts out to a stranger tonight, i’ll willingly listen, no strings attached. if you want me to leave though, i can do that too - the choice is yours.”

yibo reaches for another tissue and blows his nose again, silence indicating his consideration.

“you can stay,” he decides finally, voice scratchy in his throat, “spoiler alert though, it’s dumb.”

“i don’t judge,” sungjoo allows a small smile to cross his face, “scout’s honour. do you have tea though? or hot chocolate stuff? my mum always used to say hot drinks would chase away any sadness.”

“kitchenette has some cocoa mix,” yibo wipes at the last remnants of tears clinging to his reddened eyes, still looking beautiful despite everything that’s happened in the last ten minutes, “mugs are on the left top shelf.”

***

he wakes up the next morning on a wooden floor.

his back is killing him and the sunlight streams straight into his eyes, blinding him and making him stub his toe on something wooden. he hisses and curses under his breath, hopping up and down with his foot in his grasp whilst simultaneously trying to vigorously rub the sleep out of his eyes.

it’s something like the ass crack of dawn, his old knee injury tells him wisely, throbbing in time to his headache.

he grits his teeth and takes bearing of his surroundings. this is most definitely not the apartment he shares with wenhan - for one, the floor isn’t covered in their mutual clutter that they love blaming each other for. the layout is also entirely different, very clearly a college dorm room than the apartment they so painstakingly save up their pay for to rent. additionally, they don’t have a resident live-in handsome guy snoring away on a bed, decked out in wrinkled clubbing clothes and residual makeup.

it all comes back to him in a rush.

the club. the heady thrill of going home with someone. the lust creeping up his spine making out with yibo against the door. the cold shock of yibo’s tears and the concern that rushed in to replace it. a two am therapy session.

“oh. hi? another one, huh.”

sungjoo whips around to face the door and nearly stubs his toe again on the corner of yibo’s bed post. the voice surprises him, coming from the direction of the door. there’s a young man standing in the doorframe, squinting at the glare of the sun through the blinds and staring blatantly at him. there’s a knot that refuses to unravel in his chest at the casual tone and it’s just confusion that keeps him from snapping.

“who are you?” the words tumble out of sungjoo’s mouth in a whisper before he can stop his rudeness in time. the mornings don’t exactly leave him in the best of shape to face social interaction.

“cho seungyoun, yibo’s roommate.” he cocks his head to the side, “i’m just here to pick up my training bag, morning practice and all.”

“ah, right.” sungjoo nods like he has a clue.

they stand in silence, thick and unforgiving.

“i’ll just…” seungyoun breaks through the ice and slides through the door. he pads over to the bed opposite yibo, retrieving a sports duffel bag and a pair of shoes from underneath it before straightening up.

sungjoo moves back automatically until he’s got half a foot into the kitchenette space, just letting the scene in front of him progress naturally. that is, until he zeroes in on the cleats held in seungyoun’s hand, caked in grass and dirt. suddenly, yibo’s freakout at the mention of soccer and his saddened fury at an unrequited love last night makes a hell of a lot more sense. sungjoo’s expression sours and he watches seungyoun lug his equipment with him out the door. this roommate of yibo’s is growing all the more familiar by the minute, helped by the realisation that seungyoun is wearing a set of clothes that he remembered seeing on the dance floor last night, holographic choker flashing in his eyes as he ground his hips back on someone else.

come to think of it, that was when yibo had approached him.

he feels bile rising up with bitterness but he forces it down harshly. he can’t make this about him, a lesson he learnt as a fresher trying out for the chorus of the college’s annual musical only to be turned down for not blending in with the ensemble. it wasn’t anything personal, he has to realise, he was just collateral for someone looking to escape heartbreak and for that, he can’t blame yibo.

“hey,” seungyoun pauses before he goes out the door and his utterance rings a little too loud in the room. yibo groans and murmurs something in his sleep before he settles down again, curling up tighter on his side. he completely ignores their presence. sungjoo gives him a dead glare and seungyoun placates him with a softer whisper, “are you leaving now?”

“why would i be leaving?” sungjoo nearly bursts through the bubble of silence, barely saved by clapping his own hand over his mouth.

“because that’s what all one night stands do,” seungyoun frowns, “that’s protocol.” his nostrils flare, “if you’re thinking of doing something weird, i swear i’ll call campus police on you - “

“i’m not… i wasn’t…” sungjoo is momentarily startled for words, “we didn’t have sex last night.”

seungyoun’s mouth drops open just a little, enough for sungjoo to feel a grim sense of satisfaction, “but you came home with him?”

“and?”

he juts his chin out. a challenge.

“…nothing.” he gives sungjoo a funny look and hefts his duffel onto his shoulder, “you know, no one’s stayed past 6 am before.”

he looks back at yibo’s slumbering form and back to his roommate’s earnest but puzzled face. he tries to quell feelings of resentment towards seungyoun as he replies, ignoring what that says about his attachment to yibo, a guy he barely knows.

“i’ll be the first then.”

seungyoun narrows his eyes at him, clutching the door knob with a white-knuckled grip. sungjoo meets him head-on. he’s sure he’s being read far too easily, emotions always too close to the surface for him.

“there’s orange juice in the fridge,” seungyoun says abruptly and cryptically, taking sungjoo off guard, “he likes boiled eggs for breakfast. two of them.”

“uh - “

“i have to go. he’ll wake up by himself. take care of him.”

the door closes gently and before sungjoo can begin to feel overwhelmed by the situation he’s muddled into, he heads towards the kitchen, casting one final glance back to yibo’s peaceful sleeping form haloed by the morning sun.


End file.
